


Reign on Me

by BonesAndScales



Series: Lay my heart down [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Balls crushing, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom Will Graham, Feminization, Femme Dom Will Graham, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masochist Hannibal Lecter, Roleplay - Office, Sir Kink, Sounding, Sounding With Heels, Sub Hannibal Lecter, shoe licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesAndScales/pseuds/BonesAndScales
Summary: Hannibal smiles and steps aside to let him in. As Will brushes past him, Hannibal’s eyes trail down his body, taking in the thick coat hiding most of him down to his knees, and the strong outline of his calves, hidden in opaque black nylon. He raises an eyebrow at the honey yellow pumps. These are new.Will’s got new shoes. He inaugurates them on Hannibal’s privates.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Lay my heart down [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930498
Comments: 3
Kudos: 98
Collections: Sub Hannibal Week 2020





	Reign on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Dusk suggested sounding with heels when I prompted Femme Dom Will crushing Hannibal's nuts in high heels. Many thanks to Bibs for the beta!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Hello, doctor.”

Hannibal does not show his surprise at the sight of Will at his office door. 

“Did we have an appointment?”

“I’m sure you can squeeze me in somewhere.”

Hannibal smiles and steps aside to let him in. As Will brushes past him, Hannibal’s eyes trail down his body, taking in the thick coat hiding most of him down to his knees, and the strong outline of his calves, hidden in opaque black nylon. He raises an eyebrow at the honey yellow pumps. These are new.

“You could have called me, I would have made some arrangements,” Hannibal says as he helps Will out of his coat, the thick material sliding down his shoulders, revealing a yellow turtleneck matching his shoes, and a black pencil skirt, hugging his forms delicately.

“Oh, no worries, you're perfectly arranged as is. And,” Will smiles, turning his head slightly and batting long, thick lashes without meeting Hannibal’s gaze, “I quite like you unprepared.”

When Will's arms emerge from the sleeve, Hannibal allows himself the small indulgence of leaning forward, and taking in a whiff of Will’s perfume. Sweet, light, flowery, so removed from the abomination he usually wears.

“I always endeavour to be prepared for any eventuality.”

“A little bit of improvisation makes life more exciting.”

Hannibal concedes the point, inclining his head. While he goes to hang the coat, Will saunters to the desk and sits on the edge, unending legs demurely joined.

“No patient? We're way past lunchtime.”

“A patient has postponed their appointment because of a family emergency. That left me plenty of time to sort out my notes.”

“Are they sorted now?”

“Yes.”

“When's your next patient?”

Hannibal looks at his wristwatch. “In a little over thirty minutes.”

“That's a little tight but I think we can work with it.”

“Work with it?”

Will smiles and beckons him closer. Hannibal obeys, pulled in like a sailor. He stops in front of Will, towering over him, his shoes bracketing Will's bright pumps.

With a hand to the back of Hannibal's neck, Will pulls him down to peck his mouth.

“I won’t be able to come over for dinner tonight. Instead of cancelling I thought I’d come say hello.”

“I was looking forward to this evening, and tonight,” he says against Will’s mouth. He runs the back of his fingers on Will’s smooth cheeks, sucks on his lower lip and tastes cherry.

“So was I,” Will says. He worries at Hannibal’s bottom lip gently. He reaches up to caress Hannibal’s jaw, steel-grey nails scratching ever so lightly. “I would hate to deprive you of your reward.”

Hannibal’s chest flutters at the words, low and husky. The contrast with Will’s delicate appearance is striking. Anticipation curls in his stomach. 

He swallows, leans back enough to look at Will. “I can’t refuse, now can I.”

Will straightens his back, lifts his chin ever so slightly. His gaze turns razor sharp, piercing through Hannibal. A shaky breath pushes past Hannibal's lips as his heart flutters in his chest.

“Take off your clothes.”

Hannibal steps back, strides over to the closest armchair to start disrobing. The jacket and waistcoat go first, the former hung on the back of the chair, the second folded on the seat. As he untucks his shirt from his pants and starts working on the buttons Will pushes away from the desk. His heels click sharply on the wooden floor as he circles Hannibal to stand behind him.

Hannibal slides the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his neck and the heavy steel collar resting snugly around it. Will hums in appreciation.

“It's quite well hidden under your clothes. I had hoped a very observant patient could have noticed it. What a shame. ” He reaches out to touch said collar, then runs his nails down Hannibal’s spine, earning a hiss from him as a shiver follows the path he traces. Taking the shirt off exposes the matching steel cuffs around his wrists. “One day I'll have you wear your leather collar and cuffs at work, make sure nobody misses them,” Will says, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Hannibal. “Oh you'd like that? You'd like everyone to know who you belong to?”

“Would you give me a choice in the matter?”

“Of course not.”

The belt goes next, pulled out of the loops of his pants. He looks over his shoulder, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. 

“We won’t need it,” Will says simply.

Hannibal nods, rolls the belt tightly and leaves it beside the waistcoat. He bends down to take off his shoes and Will’s hand grabs his rear, nails grazing through the thick material of his pants. Hannibal takes his time undoing the shoelaces. Shoes and socks are placed under the chair. Next are the pants. The sound of the zipper is grating in the quietness of the room, it seals the scene with its decisiveness. He hooks his fingers in both pants and underwear, and pulls both down. 

Entirely bare, he turns to face Will, who looks him up and down appreciatively. Will reaches out to run a hand over his chest, fingering the small gems of the piercings framing each of his nipples, up to wrap around his neck in a silent promise, then down over his breastbone, his stomach, and his abdomen to tease the trail of hair leading to his crotch. 

“On your knees.”

Hannibal gracefully lowers to the ground, eyes trained on Will as he goes. 

“Good boy,” Will says, cupping his jaw with one hand.

That hand moves further up, until he can card his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, ruining the careful grooming with a few gentle ruffles. His nails scrape against Hannibal’s scalp and he shudders, eyes falling close.

Will pulls him closer, until Hannibal’s forehead is inches away from Will’s thigh. The nylon is thin but scratchy, catching onto Hannibal’s stubble as he kisses his way up from Will’s knee to the hem of his skirt. He pushes the skirt further up, first with his nose, then with his teeth.

Will clicks his tongue.

“Ah-Ah. No tearing, I won’t be as lenient as I was last time.”

Hannibal smiles against his leg, briefly considers disobeying to see what punishment Will would choose this time. The last time he had whipped Hannibal until he bled. The scars had taken twice as long to heal, and Hannibal had reveled in the simmering pain that had stuck to him like a blanket for the following week, feeling as ragged as the stockings he had torn. The sting that came from sitting, from stretching, from lying down, from showering, from simply walking… when it had all faded, he found himself missing it dearly. 

Will tightens his fingers in Hannibal’s hair, bringing him back to the present with a hiss.

“Down.”

Hannibal obeys immediately, prostrating himself on the floor. He holds back a moan as the sharp heel of Will’s pump digs into his back, in the dip between his shoulder blades, pushing down until his cheek touches cold wood. 

“I haven’t had the time to polish them before I came,” Will says, digging his heel harder into Hannibal’s back for emphasis. “Lick them clean. And don’t touch my tights.” 

Hannibal can’t hold back the moan this time. “Yes, Sir.”

He feels his cock twitch between his legs, but does not dare even move his hand towards his crotch. The pressure on his back disappears and Will places his foot right beside his head with a decisive click. Hannibal crans his neck, and licks the cold leather of Will’s pump. He starts at the pointed tip, kitten licks along the small length, from the very end to the small arch connected to Will’s foot. 

He pauses for a second, before giving an experimental lick to the nylon over the bridge.

Will pulls his foot away and the shoe lands on Hannibal’s head, pushing him back to the ground. Hannibal cries out, more of surprise at the sharp sensation of the heel against his scalp than any real pain--this, he would have to work for.

“Aren’t you naughty today. I reward you and you abuse my generosity,” Will says, laying his sole on Hannibal’s temple, pinning him down. “I’ll have to remedy that.”

Hannibal swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Will huffs a laugh. “No, you aren’t. But you’ll be when I’m done you.”

Hannibal shudders, a small whine escaping him. His skin already tingles in anticipation of punishment.

“I’m giving you another chance. If you disobey again, I’ll leave. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Hannibal’s voice is raw, as though already broken by screams. He swallows again.

“Good.”

Will places his foot back down, the click of the heel sending a flash of heat right down to Hannibal’s groin. Hannibal is pliant under him, and resumes licking his pump, careful to avoid nylon-covered skin.

Once the shoe glistens with saliva, shining under the dim light, Hannibal moves on to the other, as diligent as he was with the first. Done with both shoes, he presses his forehead back to the floor, his chest already heaving, body buzzing with arousal. 

He closes his eyes, listens to the click of Will’s heels again as he inspects them. Hannibal holds his breath, his fingers clenching, and toes curling. 

“You did well, Hannibal. You can sit up.”

A relieved breath leaves him at once at the words and he straightens up.

“You've been very good for me,” Will says, reaching out to caress his cheek. “Is there something you want?”

Hannibal swallows hard as the tip of the shoe scrapes against his throat, pushing on his Adam’s apple. 

“Anything. Anything you'll let me have.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Suit yourself.”

Will places his shoe on Hannibal’s breastbone, and pushes until he falls backwards. Hannibal goes pliantly, spreading out on the wooden floor. Will steps forward in between Hannibal's legs. The tip of the shoe teases plump asscheeks, before sliding in between to press against his hole. Hannibal sucks in a breath.

“We’ll come back to this later if you're good,” Will says, pulling his foot out of Hannibal’s crack. “Let's start here, hm?” 

And with this, he steps onto Hannibal’s cock, the sole along the hard length, and the heel crushing one of his testicules, almost hard enough to pierce.

Hannibal tenses at once, a strangled cry tumbling off his lips, quickly cut off.

“You like that, huh?”

Will presses down harder, making Hannibal’s head snap back with a whimper. His hands dart down towards Will’s foot, as though to push him away, but he stops at the last second, trembling. 

_Anything you'll let me have._

Will is allowing him this, and he shall take it.

He rides the wave of pain, his shaking hands slowly return to the floor.

“Good boy.” 

Will eases the pressure, grinds his sole along the length instead. 

Hannibal tries to speak, his jaw moving but he manages little more than laboured breaths.

Will smiles, endlessly endeared at the sight of him, utterly undone for his eyes only. Open and vulnerable and taking Will’s torment with abandon. 

Will lifts his foot and places it against the sensitive skin of Hannibal’s inner thigh.

“Hold your cock for me,” he says.

It takes a second for Hannibal to register the command. He blinks up slowly at Will, misty eyes full of adoration. Then he reaches down and does as instructed. Will moves up and turns on his heels, his feet on either side of Hannibal’s waist. One hand holding onto the back of the armchair for support, he moves his weight to his left foot and lifts the right one. He looks over his shoulder and stretches his leg back towards Hannibal’s head. 

“Make it slick for me, will you?”

Hannibal lifts his head and licks up the sole, eyes half lidded in bliss, before moving up and taking Will’s heel in his mouth. Strangled moans rise from the back of his throat as he sucks on the heel and takes almost all of it in, swirling his tongue around it.

Satisfied, Will gently pulls his heel out of Hannibal’s mouth, who reluctantly lets go with a wet _smack_ of his lips. He looks back at Hannibal’s cock, hard and red and leaking, and stretches his leg forward, aligning the heel of his shoe with Hannibal’s urethra.

“Keep _very_ still.” 

He presses the tip of the heel to Hannibal’s slit. Hannibal’s hand twitches around his cock once. He inhales sharply.

The head resists. Will presses down. 

“Ah--”

The tip pops in. Hannibal's hand tightens briefly. 

Will looks over his shoulder. Hannibal’s eyes are shut tight, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, turned white under the pressure. His head is thrown back, exposing his neck, all hard muscles and jutting bones. 

“You okay?”

Hannibal’s lip slides off the cage of his teeth, and his eyes flutter open. His gaze falls into Will. He nods once.

“Speak.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.”

Will looks back forward, and presses deeper. Barely an inch and Hannibal cries out, his legs trembling under Will. He looks over his shoulder again. 

“Breathe, Hannibal, breathe.”

Hannibal unclenches his teeth, takes in several erratic breathes, before forcing himself to slow down. The rise and fall of his chest gradually evens out, though it does not stop shaking. His breaths still come out hard and laboured, high pitched mewls pushing past his lungs every now and again.

“I suggest you keep your voice low, darling. Who knows if your next patient is already behind the door.” 

Hannibal clamps his mouth shut, though the muffled moans are still loud in the quiet of the room. Will waits a few more beats for him to relax before proceeding. 

They continue like this, Will going deeper, stopping when Hannibal whimpers and resuming when he calms down, until almost all of his heel is inside Hannibal’s urethra. Hannibal strokes his cock, chasing some pleasure to balance out the pain of the insertion. 

Without warning Will pulls back an inch then presses back in. Hannibal moans, tensing under Will.

“Sir, please!”

Will pulls the heel out at once and Hannibal screams, his back arching beautifully under him. He comes, eyes rolling back in their sockets with the force of it. Thick ropes of semen shoot out, staining Will’s pumps. He strokes himself through it, squeezing every last bit of it out. Then, the tension leaves him at once, and he falls back to the floor, lungs burning and gulping for air. 

Back on his two feet, Will steps aside and gives Hannibal a moment to catch his breath. He is flushed from his forehead down to his chest, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and cheeks. Unshed tears clump his eyelashes.

When Hannibal’s shaking subsides, Will looks down at his shoe covered in semen. “Would you look at that, all your good work gone to naught. Here, come clean it.”

It takes Hannibal a moment to come back to himself and register Will’s words. His eyes bat away the tears clinging to his lashes, sending them rolling down his cheeks. He peers over at Will’s pump, still caught in the haze, pushes up on his elbows and drags himself to kneel at Will’s feet again. He takes Will’s ankle and starts licking off his own cum, less focused than earlier but still as thorough. Will does not berate him when he misses and licks the arch of his foot a few times.

“The floor too. Can’t have patients come in to cum stains, now can we?”

Hannibal obeys, seeming more aware now, and more purposeful. He chases every last bit of semen on the wooden slats.

When Hannibal straightens up again, Will bends down to cup his face. He brushes Hannibal’s hair back from his face and kisses his forehead. 

“You did very well, Hannibal, I’m so proud of you.”

Hannibal preens under the praise, his eyes sliding closed. Will pulls him up and leads him to the couch. He presses another kiss to the crown of his head and goes to fetch the towel and bottle of water on the desk. 

He pushes the bottle in Hannibal’s hand and drapes the towel over his shoulders. Hannibal downs half of the water before setting it down. When Will joins him on the couch and gathers him in his arms, uncaring about the sweat getting over his clothes, Hannibal falls into the embrace easily, his arms circling Will’s waist and his head resting on his shoulder. Will caresses his shoulders, his back, his hair. He peppers his cheeks with kisses and whispers praises and sweet nothings in his ear. 

Hannibal takes his time gathering his bearings, absorbing the warmth of their parlour, the carefully cultivated smells of their home combined with the musk of sex, the crackling of the hearth and the rich colours of the furnitures illuminated by its dancing orange hues.

“I love you, Will,” Hannibal says into Will’s shoulder, almost dreamily.

“I love you too, Hannibal. I love you so, so much,” Will says in between kisses. He grabs the bottles and presses it in Hannibal’s hand again, who finishes the rest of it, throwing his head back. “How do you feel?”

Hannibal hums. “That was more intense than I expected.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“Good. Not overly demanding physically but I fell quicker than I thought. I wonder if we could try verbal humiliation in the future, I enjoyed you looking down on me.”

“Why not? Not sure what I could humiliate you about though, you’re perfect,” Will says, nuzzling his cheek.

“Your imagination has yet to fail us.”

“Hmm. Just tell me what subjects I shouldn’t touch, we’ll think of something.” 

Will leans down to slip off his pumps, wincing lightly. He sets his shoes under the couch and massages the soles of his feet.

“Brand new?”

“Yeah, haven’t had time to break them in yet.”

“A rather bold choice, although you look lovely in them.”

“I know.” Will pushes off the couch. He extends his hands to Hannibal and pulls him up as well, leading him to the ensuite by the hand. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to snack on while I make us dinner,” he says as he lets Hannibal to shower. 

“Something light for dinner, please.”

Already out the door, Will says, “Chicken sausage and rice should do the trick.”

“I said _light_ ,” Hannibal calls after him, earning the echo of a clear, warm laugh. As it fades in the distance, Hannibal can’t help but smile in answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comment if you liked, they're my kachings :3


End file.
